


The Vexatious Nine

by Balsamique



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Between Seasons/Series, Character Death, Gen, Murder Mystery, No Romance, One Shot, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balsamique/pseuds/Balsamique
Summary: While searching for more of his kind on the desolate planet of Karth, a blizzard traps the Mandalorian, the child and seven lodgers in an isolated stopover. When one of the lodgers is mysteriously murdered, it’s up to the Mandalorian to catch the killer before they can claim their next victim. But as the storm thickens, so does the mystery — and this isn’t a problem he can shoot his way out of.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu, Din Djarin & Original Character(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 31





	The Vexatious Nine

**Author's Note:**

> I'm officially posting my first fanfiction! Seeing as The Mandalorian is, essentially, a Space Western, I thought it was high time we got some Tarantino influence in here. Thus, I've (loosely) based this story off the 2015 film "The Hateful Eight."
> 
> It's set between seasons one and two, so Din's current goal is to track down another Mandalorian who can lead him to the Jedi. As we know, things rarely go his way.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to leave a comment!

He should have known better than to take directions from an Arcona squatter.

In Din’s defense, he hadn’t exactly had a better option. Locating another of his kind was proving to be harder than anticipated — and he hadn’t anticipated it would be easy — so when the squatter claimed to know where he could find another Mandalorian, Din had listened.

His search led him to Karth, a frozen Outer Rim planet he’d never been to before. It didn’t look like much, but Mandalorians, he supposed, were more than likely to choose an obscure planet to hide on. If it meant reuniting the child with the Jedi, it was worth a shot.

It was snowing when they landed in a clearing by the woods. Wind rushed ferociously through the trees, shaking the barren branches and howling with the power of a thousand jet engines. As Din powered the _Razor Crest_ down, the child crawled from the co-pilot’s seat onto the dashboard. Chirping softly, he gazed through the windscreen at the endless curtain of flurries, and it occurred to Din that this might be his first time seeing snow.

The child turned excitedly and pointed at the view.

“I see it, kid,” said Din, unable to pretend that the snow particularly excited him. He opened the door to the cockpit and placed the child in the hovering pram. “You ready to find a Mandalorian?”

The child pointed at him.

“That’s right. Like me.”

Bracing themselves against the wind, they exited the ship. As they passed beneath a tree, a clump of snow fell from an overhanging branch and landed inside the pram. Curious, the child poked at it and promptly cried out at the chill. Shaking his head, Din scooped the snow out.

“This is snow. It falls from the sky when it’s cold.”

The child chirped in response. Taking that to mean he understood, Din went to lock up the ship. He doubted there were Jawas in a frozen forest, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. Suddenly, a massive snow squall blew past, battering the ship’s hull and transforming the woods into an indeterminate blur of white. As the skies darkened, the child trembled and buried his face in his robe.

Din clocked their surroundings. “Looks like a blizzard’s coming. We should find a town soon.”

 _Click_. Before he could take a step, the sound of a rifle being cocked set his senses on alert. In a single movement, he pushed the pram out of the way and drew his blaster. Backing against the ship, he aimed in the general direction of the sound. The bitter cold seeped beneath his armour.

A voice spoke.

“Mandalorian,” it said, faint and hollow in the wind, “lower your weapon.”

Hardly able to see, Din switched on his helmet’s infrared motion sensor and found the speaker in the storm. It was a human — or near-human — woman. She was tall and thin, and wielding a hunting rifle. What appeared to be a speeder bike was parked beside her.

Din adjusted his aim. “You first.”

Tightening her grip on her rifle, the woman tilted her head in a birdlike manner. “I’ll do no such thing so long as you’re on my land.”

“Your land?”

“That’s right. From Lake Mordica to the Karthian Mountains is Hawker Ranch, so I suggest you be on your way before this storm does us both in.”

Din looked around. The world might as well have been invisible beyond the blizzard, but he recalled flying over a small lake on the way in and seeing jagged mountain peaks to the north. If this woman’s words were true, it would seem she owned half the forest, and if she owned half the forest, she probably knew the area and its people well.

He lowered his blaster.

“I’ve come a long way,” he said, keeping his voice cordial. “I didn’t know this was private property.”

“Didn’t expect you to,” replied the woman. She relaxed her grip. “But thank you for obliging.”

Okay, niceties. That was a good sign. 

“I’m looking for someone,” he continued. “I was told I might be able to find them here.”

“Family?”

“In a way. Mandalorians.”

For a moment, the woman said nothing. Then, she spoke, and her voice was slightly closer than it had been. “Walk straight toward me. I’ll meet you halfway.”

Adjusting the infrared sensor, Din obeyed. The child’s pram floated beside him, trembling slightly as hail ricocheted off it with a glassy _clink_.

“Stay close,” he murmured.

Across the clearing, the woman trudged toward them, boots kicking up small pieces of snow and frost. Only when she finally stood in front of them could Din get his first good look at her.

She was definitely human. Most of her face was concealed by leather goggles and a woollen scarf, and she wore a black, wide-brimmed hat which cast a sharp shadow over her brow. Her cloak was bright red and finely tailored. It gave her the look of someone who was either very important, or who wanted to be seen as such.

“You said Mandalorians,” she said, tilting her head again. “Like yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“That’s my business.”

“That it is,” the woman laughed. It melted into the wind. “Well, I’m afraid I’d know if there was anyone like that around here. We don’t get many visitors.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” she said. Then, perhaps noting his disappointment, added, “But I suppose anything’s possible. My friend, Yerena Kwinn, owns a stopover nearby. I’m sure she’d remember if anyone unusual had passed through.”

A stopover. Even if Karth didn’t get many visitors, it evidently got enough temporary travellers to keep a stopover in business. If Din could, at the very least, get more reliable directions, maybe this trip didn’t have to be in vain.

“Could you take me there?” he asked. “I can pay you.”

“Pay me?” the woman scoffed. “I’m not a chauffeur. This is a favour from one acquaintance to another. Understood?”

“Understood,” said Din. Beneath the scarf and goggles, it was difficult to get a read on her intentions, so he couldn’t quite tell if she was actually offended or not. He imagined she must think the same about him. “Thank you.”

The woman pointed to her speeder bike. “Ride’s over there.”

Pushing against the heightening snowfall, they trekked back across the clearing. The bike was an older model with manual gears, and had clearly been repaired more than once. A wire basket filled with a strange assortment of winter leaves, flowers and berries was fastened to the back.

Ensuring the child’s pram was set to follow alongside them, Din climbed on. The woman fastened her rifle to her back and sat in front.

“Do you have a name?” Din asked. If they were, as she'd said, acquaintances, it was only right to know what to call her.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yes, but I asked yours.”

“That you did,” she replied, starting the bike. It whirred to life. “It's Hawker. Bricédes Hawker.”

With that, she revved up the engine. They sped off into the brutal storm.

━━━━━━━━ ✠ ━━━━━━━━

“I wasn’t actually going to shoot you,” said Bricédes Hawker. They’d been driving at top speed through the wintry forest for around a quarter-hour. “I just pretend because it intimidates trespassers. Like how a Mordica orchid mimics the shape of a wasp to fend off predators.”

“Good to know,” said Din, vaguely wondering how her hat was staying on.

“And I wouldn’t have pretended either if I thought it might scare your...whatever that is.”

“A kid.”

“Is that so?” She glanced at the child, who chirped brightly. “Never seen anything like it. Then again, we don’t see much around these parts except for blizzards and avalanches.”

Din said nothing. Clearly, his new acquaintance liked to talk.

The storm was growing stronger by the minute. If the sun had once been out, it was now long gone. The thick padding beneath his armour was useless against the chill, and the frigid air was beginning to fog up his helmet. Karth seemed a hellish place to live.

The wind picked up again and the child shivered. Din closed the roof of the pram.

“Where’s this stopover of yours?”

“Of my friend’s,” Bricédes corrected. “Not far now.”

The longer they drove, the darker and more liminal the woods became, until Din had nearly forgotten the time. Soon, the blurry silhouette of the Karthian Mountains drifted into view, looming above the world with peaks like the edge of a serrated knife. Near the mountain base, encased in a scattering of coniferous trees, stood a large house. Bricédes took a sharp left turn toward it.

The house was a sturdy, two-story structure. It had an extremely steep roof, presumably to fortify itself against heavy snow. The windows were intricately panelled and the exterior was made of dark brick and wood. An imposing metal gate surrounded the property. Against the alpine backdrop, it almost looked like a mountain itself.

Bringing the bike to an abrupt stop, Bricédes parked outside the gate and dismounted. She unfastened the wire basket from the back and swung the strap over her shoulder.

“Winter botanicals,” she explained, pushing a button on the gate. It swung open with a dry creak. “For research.”

“I thought you owned the land near the mountains,” said Din, bringing the child’s pram closer and following Bricédes through the courtyard. 

“I do.” Her voice dropped slightly. She heaved the front door open and stepped to the side. “But Yerena and I have an agreement.”

Her tone suggested she wasn’t going to elaborate, so Din didn’t press further. Thanking her for holding the door, he entered the stopover.

It was one of the most devastatingly inviting sights he’d ever seen. The main parlour was spacious and brightly lit. A bar stretched across the right, barricading what was likely the kitchen door. A few tables and chairs stood in the centre of the room, scattered with playing cards and half empty glasses. On the left, three sofas and a rug sat before a crackling fire. A staircase wound around the back, and in the middle of the ceiling hung an ostentatious crystal chandelier.

Tearing his eyes away, Din opened the roof of the pram. The child sneezed.

“You okay?” he asked, and received a tired chirp in response.

“Where is everyone?” said Bricédes, removing her hat, scarf and goggles. She was a little younger than Din, and had dark olive skin, sharp features and braided hair sparsely streaked with premature grey. Scanning the room, she frowned and pointed to one of the tables, upon which lay a set of state-of-the-art hunting knives. “Those weren’t there when I left.”

Before Din could respond, two enormous, athletically built bloodhounds came sprinting down the stairs, barking in excitement. Instinctively, Din slid in front of the pram, but the dogs ignored him entirely and went for Bricédes. Throwing her arms around them, she spoke endearingly in a consonant-heavy language Din didn’t know. The dogs settled down.

“Anouk and Sephyr. My hunting dogs,” she said.

Sephyr, the smaller of the two, approached Din and pressed up against his legs. The child cooed curiously.

“They’re very impressive,” Din said, once certain they weren’t going to eat anyone.

Just then, the kitchen door swung open and an orange-skinned Twi’lek emerged, balancing a tray of glasses on her hip. Following her was a young man dressed in a neat suit and high-collared black cape, which he kept adjusting as if it were uncomfortable.

“Bricédes, is that you, love?” the Twi’lek twittered absentmindedly. “I thought it must be when I heard those dogs barking. Have you heard the news? Countess Isabeth Moray of Livia has gone missing and no one knows — oh, _hello_.” Her heavy-lidded gaze rested upon Din. “Who are you?”

“Yerena, finally,” said Bricédes. “This is a Mandalorian gunslinger I met in the woods. The little one is his ward.”

“I’m sorry to intrude,” said Din, taking in Yerena’s stunned expression. “Your friend said you might be able to help me. I’m looking for some information on —”

“— Bricédes,” Yerena interrupted, “I let you out for ten minutes and you return with a man?”

Din frowned. “We’re not —”

The Twi’lek glanced at him and grinned. “You’re lucky. She doesn’t usually go for the mysterious type.”

“ _What_? Disgusting,” retorted Bricédes. Instantly, her cheeks darkened and turned to Din. “I mean — not that you’re — _kriff_. I’m going to put the botanicals upstairs.”

She sprinted faster than the bloodhounds.

Thus, Din Djarin found himself faced with the day’s first awkward silence.

Said silence was broken by a tentative cough. It was the young man in the suit. He stood behind Yerena, eyeing both her and Din nervously.

“Oh, where are my manners?” exclaimed Yerena. She brought the young man forward. “This is Mr. Jethra Pellen, a scholar-in-training from the university.”

“Southern Karth,” clarified Pellen. His voice, like the rest of him, was neat and refined. “It’s a pleasure, sir. I’ve never met a real Mandalorian before. Done plenty of reading, though.” At that, a comlink in his pocket beeped. “Excuse me, I’ll just take this.”

Silencing the ringer, he retreated into the kitchen. Din watched him go, inwardly deciding that he and the child had already been here long enough.

He turned to Yerena. “Could I have a word?”

She grinned again. “Of course, love. Anything I can do.”

“I’m trying to locate more of my kind. Bricédes said you might be able to help. Have any Mandalorians ever passed through your establishment?”

“Mandalorians?” She frowned. “I’m afraid not. I remember everyone who’s ever come through this spot and I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

Din sighed. So this had all been for nothing. He could have been off this wretched planet by now, searching for new leads somewhere warmer. Sensing his vexation, the child chirped questioningly, dark eyes wide. Din looked down at him, and a thought sprung into his mind. Yerena had never seen any _Mandalorians_ on Karth, but that didn’t mean she’d never seen any Jedi. After all, if anyone were to hide on a frozen wasteland, it would be a Jedi. Din imagined a race of sorcerers probably had a flair for the dramatic — and magic. Perhaps the cold didn’t bother them.

“What about Jedi?” he asked.

“Jedi?” The word was obviously unfamiliar. “There’s no one here by that name.”

“It’s not a name, it’s a race. An ancient race of sorcerers.”

Yerena’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

Din sighed again. Great, now she thought he was crazy. What was more, he would undoubtedly have to restart his search from scratch. From the corner of his eye, he looked at the child and tried to ignore the disappointment festering in his chest.

 _Slam_. Before he could calculate his next steps, a door flung shut upstairs and footsteps rattled the floorboards. Din nearly grabbed his blaster. Pellen hurried back from the kitchen, stowing his comlink away in his pocket.

“Oh dear.” Yerena’s face fell. “Perhaps I should have warned —”

“— For the _last time_ , Ajax Rivian, I don’t do negotiations. You’ll hunt on the other side of town like everyone else and stay away from my ranch!”

“Come on, darlin’,” said an unfamiliar voice. “Make an exception for a friend.”

“For a friend, I just might,” said Bricédes. “Not for you.”

She came thundering down the stairs, features pinched and heeled boots clacking furiously. Behind her was a tall, broad-shouldered man of thirty-five or forty, handsome and dressed in creased leather. Rejoining them in the parlour, Bricédes shot Yerena a venomous glare. The Twi’lek looked away sheepishly.

The handsome man made a beeline for the table where the hunting knives lay. Taking a seat, he reclined in the chair and began cleaning the knives individually.

“Allow me to thank you for keepin’ an eye on these, Madame Y,” he said with a charming smile. It was hard to tell on orange skin, but Din swore Yerena blushed. “Perhaps you can convince the lovely Miss Hawker here to reconsider her decision regardin’ a huntin’ license. We all know she doesn’t have the luxury to refuse.”

Yerena hesitantly glanced at Bricédes, whose arms were crossed tightly over her chest. Finally, the Twi’lek sighed. “You can’t hunt in these woods, love. It’s private property, we all know _that_.”

The man, looking rather betrayed, rolled his eyes and returned to cleaning his knives.

Din hadn’t expected the day’s second awkward silence to come so soon after the first. While Pellen suddenly found great interest in his now silent comlink, Yerena slipped behind the bar and began vigorously polishing the glasses she’d brought out. Calling her dogs with a sharp snap, Bricédes stalked across the room and sat before the fire. Anouk and Sephyr responded immediately, dashing over to her with penetrating barks.

The noise startled the child, who was beginning to look a little drowsy. Din frowned.

“You’re hungry,” he murmured. “I’ll get you something to eat."

Asking Yerena for milk and something with meat in it, Din joined Bricédes by the fire, where she absentmindedly stroked Anouk’s fur. A few moments later, a red and grey housekeeping droid with a circular monitor on its head rolled out of the kitchen, carrying a glass of lukewarm milk and a plate of cured meat. Beeping, it set the food on a low table in front of the child, who reached for it eagerly. The droid seemed rather amicable, but when Din attempted to thank it, it rolled away without a response.

“Don’t bother,” said Bricédes. “AP-33 only responds to Yerena. Some kind of password.”

Din glanced at the handsome man, who was still cleaning his knives. “Who's that?”

“A constant Karthian thornbush in my side,” scoffed Bricédes. “Ajax, why don’t you introduce yourself to my new friend here?”

The man looked over. “Who, the Life Day ornament?”

“I’ll set the dogs on you.”

“Fine, fine. Keep your hair on.” The man turned to Din and tipped his hat. “Ajax Rivian, at your service. Apologies for the slight, Mando, but that beskar is mighty shiny. Must be worth a lot.”

“Sharp observation,” Din replied, disliking him instantly.

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen your kind ‘round here before. What brings you to Karth?”

“Business.”

“ _Business_. I could say the same, if our pretty mutual friend would cooperate.” Smirking at Bricédes' obvious exasperation, his eyes travelled to the child. “That a baby?”

The child, who was reaching for a piece of meat, stared at Rivian and chirped. Din tensed.

“He’s with me,” he said, holding Rivian’s gaze through his helmet. For the first time, the man appeared a touch nervous.

“Ain’t that nice,” he replied, signalling to Yerena for a drink. Bringing a glass over, she revived her earlier account about the missing Countess of Livia. Rivian nodded along, looking like he was being held prisoner.

Exhaling steadily, Din turned to the child. He’d finished eating, so Din placed a few credits on the table and stood. They’d been here long enough, and he wasn’t looking forward to having to dig his ship out of the snow.

“Thank you for everything,” he said to Bricédes. “We’ll be leaving now.”

The child at his side, Din thanked Yerena for the food and strode over to the door. When he opened it, however, he was faced not with a view of the woods, but with white. A vast, dense expanse of white, punctuated by the roaring wind. Hail battered off his armour with a hollow _ring_ and wind sent the lightweight chairs flying back. The pram flew back too. Hearing the child wail, Din spun around and grabbed it. Amidst the pandemonium, he was vaguely aware of footsteps entering the stopover.

And then the chaos stopped.

Bricédes had slammed the door shut. As the wind racketed ominously against the wood, she laughed awkwardly and said something about not wanting him to freeze to death. But Din was hardly listening, for three newcomers stood before him.

The first was a teenage girl with fair hair and delicate, elfin features. She had stiff shoulders and scanned the room with nervous, observant eyes. The second was a green-skinned male Mirialan. Din recognized him as having the look of a bounty hunter — serious face, quiet but confident deportment.

He recognized the third newcomer in a different way. A stocky, predacious woman with a scarred face and matted hair, Vala Blaine, known colloquially as the Silent Terror, was an Arkanisian outlaw whom Din knew from one too many bounty pucks. Despite losing her tongue during the Clone Wars, she’d become one of the most notorious criminals in the parsec. In 6 ABY, she’d single-handedly taken over one of the subterranean towns on Basteel, only leaving because she grew bored. At the moment, she was handcuffed to the Mirialan, which was, to say the very least, odd.

“I thought you said Karth didn’t get many visitors,” Din murmured to Bricédes.

“We don’t,” she insisted. “This is more people than I’ve seen all month.”

Eyeing the newcomers, Yerena hurried over with a camera-worthy smile plastered on her face. “More guests! Please, come away from the cold.”

Acknowledging Yerena with a single nod, the Mirialan sauntered to the back of the parlour, dragging Vala Blaine by the handcuffs. As they passed a wary Rivian, Blaine keenly eyed his hunting knives. Realizing what was going to happen, Din shielded the child and stood his ground.

Blaine lunged for the knives with the ferocity of a ravenous beast. Yelping unbecomingly, Rivian jumped back and drew his blaster. Before he had the chance to shoot, the Mirialan swung around gracefully and wrenched on the handcuffs, throwing Blaine off her feet and to the ground. Pulling her up, he continued to drag her to the back of the room, where he sat on the sofa and silently observed everyone. Din couldn’t guess what was going through the hunter’s mind, but the fear that subtly rippled through the rest of the stopover was evident. The young girl in particular looked terrified.

Noting the collective reaction, the Mirialan spoke. His voice was like wind weaving through grass. “I hope I don’t have to convince any of you not to cross my path. My bounty isn’t known for her benevolence. I shall wait out the storm, pay what I owe and be on my way. Are we in agreement?”

Immediately, everyone muttered in accord. Even Yerena, voluble as she was, seemed to get the message. She turned to the teenager and smiled kindly.

“What’s your name, love?” she asked. “Are you waiting for your parents?”

“Morwyn,” the girl replied, rather haughtily. Din thought he saw her glance over Yerena’s shoulder at Pellen. “And I’m old enough to travel alone.”

Din and Bricédes exchanged a look. Anyone who had to clarify that they were old enough to travel alone probably wasn’t. Not that it was any of his business.

“Time to go,” he said to the child, who babbled incoherently.

“Wait!” Yerena cried. “Didn’t you see the snow? You can’t go out there.”

“We’ll cut through it. I just need to get to my ship.”

“You won’t be able to take off in this wind.”

“For what it’s worth,” Pellen interjected, “I agree with Madame Kwinn. It’s not safe.”

“Oh, come on, if the tin can wants to leave, let him,” Rivian groaned, and Din found himself caught between being irked at the slur and relieved that someone, even if it was Ajax Rivian, was on his side.

Yerena ignored him. “I won’t let you put that child in danger.”

“Trust me,” said Din, “he won’t be.”

“Trust _us_ , you can’t travel in a Karthian blizzard.”

Before Din could think of a snappy response, Bricédes cut in.

“They’re right,” she said, holding his gaze. “Stay the night. The storm will be over by morning and I’ll drive you back myself.”

Her confidence momentarily reassured him that they _were_ right. Perhaps taking a rest and heading out with a fresh mind was the best option. After all, the child’s eyes were beginning to close. He was obviously exhausted.

“Fine,” he sighed, “we’ll stay.”

Smiling relievedly, Bricédes gestured for them to take a seat, far away from the Mirialan and his infamous bounty. Din obliged, all the while trying to convince himself that he wouldn’t regret his decision. One night. It was just one night. He could do that, couldn’t he?

After all, he’d survived far worse.

━━━━━━━━ ✠ ━━━━━━━━

Dinner that evening was quiet. Din fed the child, ate nothing himself and hoped Yerena wouldn’t think him rude. As his patience thinned, the storm thickened and Bricédes’ theory about it ending by morning seemed more far-fetched by the minute.

Once the others had eaten, Yerena produced an enormous cauldron and set it over the fire. As she threw various spices into it, Din approached her and asked if he could take something upstairs to eat in private.

“You’re welcome to whatever you like,” she said, stirring the cauldron. “But not this, it’s for breakfast.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“ _Borak_. Traditional fish stew. It simmers overnight.”

That was very well. The stew had a rather unappetizing scent, anyway.

One by one, the lodgers split off from the group and headed upstairs to bed. Thankfully, the upper floor had enough rooms for everyone. Soon, only the Mirialan and Blaine remained, sitting by the fire. Din supposed he was biding his time. After all, going to bed with a criminal handcuffed to you was practically asking for trouble.

Hoping to avoid small talk, Din slipped behind the bar. Sidestepping AP-33, he sifted through the cupboard and icebox and found some bread, cheese and meat. As he assembled a plate, the Mirialan spoke.

“You’re a hunter,” he said, voice soft and velvety. It wasn’t a question.

“That’s right,” Din replied.

“Guild?”

“Yes.”

“I once was, but I work independently now. My name is Sorab Ildomi.” He paused, eyes shifting keenly across the empty room. “May I ask you an unusual question?”

“Go ahead.”

“The girl, the young one. Have you seen her before?”

“Morwyn? No.”

Ildomi nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you.”

Taking advantage of the distraction, Blaine attempted to pull away again. With lightning speed, Ildomi yanked on the chain, so forcefully that the cuff dug into his own wrist. Even with his helmet on, Din’s puzzlement must have been obvious. Ildomi laughed darkly.

“Payment is higher if I bring her in alive,” he explained. “Not all of us can afford carbonite.”

Barking interrupted the exchange. Bricédes’ two dogs ran past the bar, wrestling their way to the hearth. Once there, they began devouring the _Borak_ straight out of the cauldron. Blaine made an attempt to kick one of them, but missed.

“Hey.” Din snapped his fingers at the dogs. “Stop that!”

To his surprise, they obeyed. Sephyr withdrew first and Anouk followed. Shaking his head, Din took his plate and headed upstairs with the child. It was already midnight on the dot, so he’d have to tell Yerena to throw the stew out in the morning.

Once upstairs, he found himself in a predicament. None of the food on his plate could be easily eaten without completely removing his helmet, and he couldn’t do that in front of the child. Even if he left him in their shared room, there was no upstairs sitting area and the hallway was too public.

That left him with only one option.

“You like Bricédes, don’t you?” Din asked, and the child chirped brightly.

Bricédes’ room was at the very end of the hallway. As Din approached, he was faintly aware of a tightness in his chest, one which always surfaced when matters of his creed were discussed with outsiders. He buried the disquiet away and hesitantly knocked on the door. After a moment, Bricédes emerged wearing a white nightgown and tartan shawl. Her unbraided hair fell to her waist in wild curls, and a gold-rimmed monocle was fitted over her left eye. In her hands, she grasped a datapad.

“Hi,” she said, looking between him and the child. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” he replied. _Kriff_. “I mean, yes. Sorry, are you busy?”

“Oh, no.” She set the datapad down. “I was just budgeting.”

Din nodded. Opening his mouth to speak, he found that no sound would come. _Dank farrik_ , why did he have to make things so difficult for himself?

“I don’t remove my helmet in front of the kid,” he finally said. “Do you mind watching him while I eat?”

There, it was done. He held his breath, bracing himself for an inevitable slew of questions about his helmet. But to his surprise, they never came.

“Sure,” said Bricédes. “Come in. There’s a divider over there. You can sit behind it.”

Thanking her, Din handed over the child and entered the room. A single bed stood in the corner by the window, which overlooked the woods. Beside it was a small table, upon which sat a microscope and the basket of leaves and flowers.

Din crossed over to the woven divider. Once safely behind it, he settled himself against the wall and removed his helmet. The air was fresh and cool against his skin, though he always felt uncomfortably exposed when barefaced. It was risky to put so much trust in a woman he’d just met that day, but inexplicably, it didn’t feel unfounded.

He ate in silence, so hungry after the whole day that he hardly cared what the food tasted like. Bricédes shuffled around on the other side of the room, though she seemed to be making an effort to stay as far from the divider as possible. He appreciated that. After a while, he heard a creak as she sat down, either on a chair or the bed.

“You’re okay, right?” she asked softly. “I know you really wanted to leave.”

“Yes.”

He swallowed a piece of over-salted cured meat and wondered if his unfiltered voice sounded very different to her. If it did, she didn’t comment on it.

“Good. And don’t worry, this doesn’t even make the list for the worst storms we’ve had.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Last year we were snowed in for two weeks. You have no idea how tiresome it is having to report all your research findings to dogs. They just don’t care about the differences in genetic makeup between coniferous and deciduous leaves.”

Right, the botanicals.

“You’re a scientist, then?”

“It’s just a hobby. Most of our flora is unique to Karth. As a rancher, it makes sense to understand it.”

Din chewed a piece of bread thoughtfully. Karth was a rather insular planet, so much so that even the plants stayed close to home. In his experience, stopovers stayed in business in diverse, travel-oriented hubs.

“You said this is the most people you’ve seen all month. Is that enough to keep this place running?”

Bricédes huffed, and for a moment Din worried his question had offended her. He was about to apologize when she spoke. “It’s part of the deal I have with Yerena. My ranch is kind of falling apart and…well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Let me guess — budgeting?”

“Budgeting.”

Din relaxed against the wall. Though he’d never admit it out loud, it felt good to have a real conversation about something other than quests, credits and bounties. He hadn’t done that since Nevarro. He was trying to think of something else to say, perhaps ask about her research or ranch, when the child began to whimper. Din reached for his helmet.

“Don’t get up. I think he’s just cold,” said Bricédes. She whispered to the child, who gradually quieted. “Hush, little one. Your father’s just over there. He’ll be with you soon.”

 _Your father_. The minute the words left Bricédes’ lips, Din’s mind blanked. _Your father_. The Armourer had once told him he was as the child’s father, but compared to this, that phrasing seemed undefined and enigmatic. Bricédes had said it casually, as if it were a fact. Perhaps it was, though he had no idea what constituted being a father. Was it more important that the child think of him as a father, or that others think of him as the child’s father? Was any man who travelled the Galaxy with a child automatically a parent? Gazing out the window at the storm, he resolved to organize these thoughts before bed.

A shrill scream resounded throughout the stopover.

Apparently, organization would have to wait.

“What was that?” Bricédes said.

In an instant, Din was on his feet. Shoving his helmet back on, he grabbed his blaster and dashed to the landing. Bricédes wrapped the child in her tartan shawl and followed. Downstairs, the dogs were barking.

They found Yerena on the staircase, a shattered glass at her feet and her hands over her mouth. Din followed her gaze down to the parlour, and his blood ran cold.

Ildomi was on his knees before the hearth, green skin ashen. On the ground, still handcuffed to him, lay the notorious outlaw Vala Blaine. Unmoving. Unbreathing.

She was dead.

━━━━━━━━ ✠ ━━━━━━━━

Din Djarin was in the middle of the day’s third awkward silence. Then again, it was half-past midnight, so maybe it was the first awkward silence of a new day.

Disturbed by the ruckus, the child began to cry. Taking him from Bricédes, Din held him against his chestplate, still wrapped in the shawl and faced away from the dead body. It wasn’t as if the child hadn’t seen dead bodies before — something Din frequently felt guilty about — but something about standing over Vala Blaine’s not-yet-cold corpse in the middle of a cozily lit parlour felt deeply disturbing.

By now, the remaining lodgers had emerged from their rooms and were packed like sardines along the staircase behind Din, Bricédes and Yerena. Pellen and Morwyn were both pale and slack-faced, while Rivian observed the scene impassively. In the spandrel beneath the staircase, Anouk and Sephyr lolled, no longer barking.

“What happened?” Din said to Ildomi.

“The criminal consumed this while my head was turned,” he ground out bitterly. “Before I could do anything, she was dead.”

“Consumed what?”

“The stew, of course.”

At that, Yerena’s horror slipped away like water down a drain. She scowled at Ildomi accusingly. “Ridiculous! My food is perfectly safe.”

“I'm not suggesting your cooking was the culprit,” Ildomi replied calmly. “Take note of the froth at her mouth. She's obviously been poisoned.”

A deadly silence fell over the room. Din tightened his grip on the child, who whined softly and tapped on his armour. _Poisoned_. That was something he had no experience with. A shootout, a skirmish, a standoff — no problem. The swift pull of a trigger and it was done. But poison suggested premeditated murder, and Din was no detective.

From the back of the staircase, Morwyn piped up. “She’s a criminal. It’s for the best.”

"Well, now that this _criminal_ is dead, I'm out of half my payment,” said Ildomi, searching through his pockets with his free hand. Finding nothing, he raised his blaster and shot the handcuffs off. Rubbing his wrist, he turned to the others. “I hope that's enough to prove I didn't do this.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure,” drawled Rivian. He strode down the stairs, pushing past Din. “You’re just about the only one here with a solid motivation.”

“Which is what, sabotaging my own career?”

“Makin’ it easier. Think about it — you’re mindin’ your business and maybe this bandit starts gettin’ difficult, so you off her.”

Din furrowed his brow. Clearly, logic had taken a backseat.

Ildomi seemed to be on the same page, because he blinked pointedly. “If that were the case, why would I poison her with fish stew?”

“ _Borak_ ,” coughed Yerena.

“Besides, you're incorrect,” Ildomi continued. “I'm the only one here with a solid motivation to keep Blaine alive. My client offered higher payment if I brought her in unharmed. The Mandalorian can confirm this.”

In a synchronized motion, everyone turned to Din.

“It’s true,” he said, thinking back to his conversation with Ildomi. The Mirialin responded with a single, matter-of-fact nod.

“I think it’s perfectly clear what’s happened,” said Yerena. “Someone is trying to sabotage my reputation by committing this heinous crime within my establishment.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” interjected Pellen.

As Yerena began to list off reasons as to why sabotage was the only sensible answer, Bricédes sidestepped Din, slipped behind the bar and punched a few numbers into a comm unit attached to the wall. It beeped a few times, then fell silent.

“ _Kriff_ ,” she said, “there’s no signal. We won’t be able to contact the Sheriff's office until the storm dies down.”

“You mean we’re trapped here?” said Morwyn, as concerned murmurs rippled through the stopover. “With a dead body?”

Ildomi laughed darkly. “That's not the problem, child. Someone poisoned this stew with the intention to kill. Logic only dictates it was one of us. So, not only are we trapped here with a dead body, we're trapped here with a murderer.”

Morwyn promptly burst into tears. Shooting Ildomi a dirty look, Yerena put her arms around the crying girl and whispered to her soothingly. Pellen inched closer, clearly trying to help, while Rivian shook his head and wandered to the middle of the room. Sighing, Din shut his eyes. He now wished more than ever that they’d left when they had the chance. His ship was out there somewhere, probably frozen beyond use, and he was here, stuck in the middle of a crime scene. Seven people, one magical child, one dead body, one killer and no contact with the outside world while the storm raged on.

In short, they were screwed.

Sensing his agitation, the child gazed up at him sleepily and tapped his armour again.

“Don’t worry,” Din said, “we’ll figure this out.”

Bricédes stood by the kitchen, leaning against the bar with her arms wrapped tightly around her body. She was shivering slightly, though whether it was from cold or fear, Din didn’t know. He went to her. 

“Do you want this back?” He unwrapped the shawl from the child’s shoulders.

“What?” She looked at him. “Oh, no. I was just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Alibis.”

“Alibis?”

She nodded, motioning for him to move closer. He obeyed, passing by AP-33, and they turned their backs to the others. “Think about it. We’re stuck here until the storm dies, which means we have two options; either sit in dread and hope no one else dies, or investigate ourselves. Neither option has a good ending for the killer, but the latter fares far better for the rest of us.”

She had a point. They had absolutely no way of knowing when the storm would end, and sitting around doing nothing would only foster paranoia. But where to begin? All that was certain was that someone had poisoned the stew and Vala Blaine had eaten it. There were no leads as to how, why, when, or —

— A sudden realization dawned on him.

“Your dogs,” he breathed.

Bricédes frowned. “What about them?”

“They ate the stew as well.” Noting the shock that flickered across her face, he elaborated. “I was here getting dinner and your dogs got into the cauldron. I drove them off, then headed upstairs.”

“But they’re both fine, which means that...”

“The stew was poisoned while we were both in your room.”

The corner of Bricédes’ mouth twitched. “So it wasn’t either of us. Good to know I’m not a killer.”

“Like you said — alibis.”

“Hey!” Rivian called out. “You two performin' opera over there?”

Din looked back at Bricédes. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Only if you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Placing the child in the pram, Din grabbed his blaster and strode to the middle of the room. “Everyone against the back wall.”

“What do you think you’re doin’?” said Rivian, narrowing his eyes.

“Investigating,” said Din. He pointed to the wall with his blaster.

“Someone in this room killed Vala Blaine,” interjected Bricédes, pacing with her hands behind her back. “I suggest that person confess right now and save us a lot of trouble. If not, we’ll have no choice but to force it out of them.”

“Should’ve known this was your idea,” groaned Ajax. Bricédes raised an eyebrow.

Lowering his blaster slightly, Din turned to the others. “Trust me.”

Ildomi, Yerena, Pellen and Morwyn exchanged looks. Finally, it was the Mirialan who answered.

“I don't know if we can trust you, Mandalorian,” he replied. “But we can give you the benefit of the doubt. Know that I, at least, am equipped to best you, should the need arise.”

With that, he moved to the wall with a snakelike grace. Cautiously, the others followed. 

“Slide your blaster over,” Din said to him. Once again, he obeyed. The blaster skid across the floor and Din kicked it up into his left hand. “Bricédes, take this and watch them.”

Bricédes stepped forward, took the blaster and positioned herself beside Din.

“Hey, hey, hey,” protested Rivian, “why does she get to be your backup?”

“The dogs got into the food at midnight.” He glanced at the two hounds, lounging lazily by the staircase. “Clearly they’re unharmed, which means whoever poisoned the stew did so afterwards. Bricédes and I were upstairs at that time. We both have alibis.”

“Precisely,” said Bricédes, and aimed the blaster at the wall. “Now, if anyone tries anything that could be deemed suspicious, I’ll pull the trigger.”

Rivian sneered. “You ain’t got the nerve.”

“Try me.”

“Quiet,” said Din, wondering if Bricédes was maybe a little too willing to threaten anyone who mildly inconvenienced her. He decided he wasn’t one to judge.

“Sir,” said Pellen, hands trembling, “I swear I had nothing to do with this. I’m just a scholar.”

“I don’t want to die,” whispered Morwyn, looking close to tears again. 

“You ain’t gonna die. Quit your snivellin’,” Rivian scoffed. 

Yerena looked at him over her shoulder. “The sooner we cooperate, the sooner we can get this over with.”

“I’ll _cooperate_ when the walkin’ Life Day ornament over there stops threatenin’ to shoot me.”

“Technically, I’m the one threatening to shoot you,” said Bricédes.

Din’s eyes travelled around the room. The staircase was close enough to the kitchen that someone could have snuck in undetected. But the stew was over the fire, and both Ildomi and Blaine had been sitting near the hearth.

“Ildomi,” he said, “did anyone come downstairs after I left?”

Leaning against the wall elegantly, Ildomi tilted his head in thought. “Not a soul. Although, I did go to that comm over there to try and contact my client. I suppose someone light-footed could have snuck by while Blaine and I weren't looking.”

“What time was that?”

“A quarter-past midnight, or so.”

“Thank you,” said Din. He paused. “We need to establish where everyone was.”

“Alibis, grand idea,” said Ildomi. “I'll go first: I was handcuffed to the victim the entire time and couldn't have spiked the stew because she'd have seen me and not eaten it in the first place. Next?”

Rivian jumped in. “I was sharpenin’ my huntin’ knives. I have the leather belt to prove it.”

“You’ve been doing that the whole day,” Bricédes pointed out.

“Knives can never be too sharp. Maybe you’d know that if you’d let me hunt on your land.”

“ _No._ Besides, it’s not a real alibi if no one can back you up. But I suppose Mr. Ildomi would have heard you lumbering down the stairs.”

“Shrew,” spat Rivian. “You know, I always thought your name sounded like somethin’ breakin’.”

“Is that really the best insult you could come up with?”

“For now —”

“ — I’ll go next,” Yerena interrupted. Din exhaled in relief. “I was asleep in my bedroom. You’ll just have to take my word for it, I’m afraid.”

“Me too,” said Pellen.

“And me,” said Morwyn.

“Well,” drawled Rivian. He crossed his arms and shot Bricédes a dirty look. “This ain’t particularly helpful if we can’t confirm half the alibis, now is it?”

“I suppose not,” said Ildomi.

Great. All of that and they could only confirm three alibis: Ildomi’s, Bricédes’ and his own. That left Rivian, Yerena, Pellen and Morwyn. Sighing, Din looked back at the staircase. The fact was that between midnight and half-past, someone had snuck down the stairs, poisoned the stew and snuck back up without Ildomi or Blaine noticing. Din and Bricédes hadn’t heard anything from her bedroom at the end of the hallway. Thus, the culprit must have come from a room at the front of the hallway.

“Here’s what I think,” said Din. “Pellen and Madame Kwinn’s rooms are closest to the staircase. Either one of you could have crept downstairs without the rest of us noticing.”

Obviously, it was the wrong move to spring an allegation out of nowhere, but he hoped the abruptness might encourage some sort of reaction. He desperately needed more information.

Yerena scowled, granting him his wish. “How dare you suggest I’d jeopardize my own business!”

“And I have no motive, sir,” insisted Pellen. He pulled at the collar of his nightshirt, just as he’d done with his cape. “I’ve never seen Blaine in my life.”

“It’s not an accusation,” explained Din, “just a theory.”

“We could go by my theory,” said Bricédes, fiddling with the blaster, “which is that the biggest asshole did it. Which makes it you, Ajax Rivian.”

“Hold that tongue, darlin’,” Rivian jeered.

Din set his jaw. While he didn’t think Rivian was responsible, he didn’t blame Bricédes for wanting him to be. Unfortunately, the man being insufferable didn’t make him a murderer, so they were still at ground zero when it came to the investigation. As he ran through potential next steps, his eyes wandered to the child, who was dozing in the pram. At least one of them was getting some sleep.

Suddenly, Bricédes inhaled sharply and hurried back to the bar. Confused, he followed her, keeping his blaster halfheartedly trained on the lodgers. It wasn’t as if they had anywhere to run.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I want to analyze the poison,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because if we learn what it is, we can learn where it’s from, which could tell us —”

“— Who brought it.”

“Exactly.”

“Great,” he said. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “How do we do that?”

Bricédes grinned. “Luckily, you’re in the presence of Karth’s third best amateur botanist.”

“What happened to the first two?”

“They died in an avalanche last year.”

“Oh,” he replied, “okay.”

He wasn’t going to regret this at all.

━━━━━━━━ ✠ ━━━━━━━━

Morning came, and stomachs began to grumble with hunger, though no one was willing to eat anything. Din had no idea how much the child understood of the situation, but the look on his face — eyes watering, green ears wilting — when told there was no food was almost unbearable. It was Yerena who put an end to it, rather scornfully asking Din’s permission to go to the kitchen and make breakfast, while he and Bricédes moved Blaine’s body upstairs and covered it with a sheet.

He gave in, and AP-33 soon arrived with poached eggs, Karthian boar bacon and bread. When everyone pointedly refused to partake, Yerena ate a helping herself to prove it wasn’t poisoned, and slowly, the others abandoned their reservations. Unable to watch the child go hungry for much longer, Din cut up some eggs and bacon. Bricédes, he noticed, waited until everyone had taken a bite before touching her own plate.

“Any progress?” he asked, trying to keep the child from gobbling up the eggs too quickly.

She looked up from her microscope, under which a sample of the _Borak_ lay, and removed her monocle. “There’s definitely something other than fish in here, but it’s hard to make out.”

Din pondered this. If they were going to use the poison’s origin to determine the killer’s identity, they needed to know exactly where everyone here had come from. A few were apparent: Bricédes and Yerena both lived here, and Pellen was from Southern Karth. Rivian, he wasn’t sure about, but Bricédes obviously knew him, which suggested he was from the area. That left Ildomi and Morwyn.

“I have a question,” he said, scanning the room. Yerena audibly sighed, while Pellen and Morwyn exchanged a nervous look. “Where’s everyone from?”

Rivian sneered. “You makin’ small talk now?”

“He’s interrogating us,” replied Ildomi. He turned to Din. “I’m originally from Mirial, and have spent much time on and near Karth, working for the system’s elite. Now, however, my ship is my home.”

Din nodded in acknowledgement. That, he could relate to. He addressed Morwyn. “What about you?”

The girl delicately bit into a piece of bacon and laid her cutlery on her plate. “I’m from Livia.”

“Livia?” exclaimed Yerena. “Have you ever met the Countess?”

Din’s brow furrowed before he recalled the missing noblewoman Yerena had mentioned the day before. Clearly, she was interested in whatever tabloids reached this part of the planet.

“No,” said Morwyn. “They say she’s quite reclusive.”

“Where is Livia?” asked Din.

“Southern Karth,” answered Pellen. “It’s the capital, actually. I work at the university there.”

So, Livia was all the way on the other side of the planet. Karth wasn’t exactly big, but it wasn’t so small that the capital of the Southern Hemisphere was only a quick ride away. Surely, a teenager wouldn’t be here without good reason.

“What brings you all the way up here?” he asked Morwyn.

For a moment, she said nothing, and her face was so still that Din wondered if she hadn’t heard him. Finally, she spoke. “I’m getting engaged in a month. This is my bachelorette trip.”

“Alone?” Rivian said incredulously. She narrowed her eyes and he raised his hands in surrender.

Din leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Nearly everyone here was from Karth, which meant Bricédes’ findings had the potential to change the entire course of the investigation. It could either narrow the suspects down to Ildomi and possibly Rivian, or make everything far more confusing. Taking a deep breath, he hoped she'd finish soon.

The child tapped on his armour again. This time, Din was aware of a vague pattern. _Tap-tap_ , _tap-tap-tap_ , _tap-tap_ , _tap_.

“Stop that,” he whispered, and the child fell silent. Before he could think of what to do next, the creak of a chair interrupted him. It was Bricédes. She’d stood quickly and was staring at the microscope with a troubled look on her face.

“Are you alright?” he asked. The child chirped concernedly.

Bricédes shook her head. “It’s scarlet mould.”

“What’s that?”

“A fungus that grows in damp places, like under a house. It’s highly toxic, usually deadly if ingested.”

Rivian’s eyes widened. “You tellin’ us we all almost died because of mouldy stew?”

“So it would seem,” said Ildomi. He turned to Bricédes. “The killer brought the mould here and poisoned the stew?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” said Bricédes. “As far as I know, scarlet mould only grows on Karth.”

Din chest tightened. The killer was someone from Karth. As he’d feared, this didn’t narrow the investigation down so much as broaden it.

“And there’s something else,” Bricédes continued, voice quiet. “A person, or animal, can develop an immunity to scarlet mould through previous non-fatal exposure. My dogs have been previously exposed.”

A low ringing clogged Din’s hearing. He stared at Bricédes numbly. “What?”

“Anouk and Sephyr are both immune to scarlet mould.”

“But that means —”

“ — That the stew could have been poisoned before they ate it. Yes.”

A horrible, weighty pause followed, broken only by the howling of the wind. Then, Yerena spoke, and her voice was sharper than Din had ever heard it.

“Do you know what this means?” She looked straight at Bricédes. “Your alibi no longer exists.”

The second the words left her lips, Din’s heart dropped into his stomach. _Kriff_.

“ _Dank farrik_ , Madame Y,” Rivan howled, "you’re right!” Passing Din, he boldly strode toward Bricédes, who grabbed Ildomi’s blaster and pointed it at him. Rivian laughed. “See, now I know you ain’t got the nerve to shoot. If you did, you’d have done it already.”

Easily, he overpowered her. She tried to pull away, but he pried the blaster from her grasp. Leaping up, Din aimed his gun, only to be faced by Rivian pointing his newly acquired weapon straight at his chestplate.

“Drop it,” he said, conspicuously admiring the blaster in his own hand.

“You're aware that’s my gun, right?” Ildomi interjected.

Rivian shrugged. “You’re the one who handed it over.”

Din stood his ground. Even if Rivian shot, the blaster bolt stood no chance against pure beskar. Evidently, Rivian came to a similar realization, for he sneered and shifted his aim to Bricédes. Her jaw dropped.

“You can’t shoot me!” she said.

“I ain’t shootin’ you,” Rivian scoffed. “But you and your boyfriend ain’t in charge no more.”

Ignoring Rivian’s comment, Din remained silent and waited to see if Bricédes would respond. When she didn’t, he addressed the hunter.

“What reason would either of us have for poisoning Blaine?”

“You’re a bounty hunter, ain’t you? Maybe you were eliminatin’ the competition.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It ain’t an accusation.” Rivian smirked. “Just a theory.”

Din glowered. That was his line.

Meanwhile, Pellen and Morwyn stared at Ildomi, unnerved. It seemed they expected the Mirialin to take action before either Din or Rivian did. Contradicting them entirely, Ildomi remained calm and still, though that didn’t mean he’d stay that way. Bricédes glared hatefully at Rivian and called her dogs over with a snap. The lodgers clocked their surroundings, tensely waiting for someone to make a move.

Then, someone stepped forward. But it wasn't Din, Rivian, Ildomi, or even Bricédes.

It was Yerena.

“The Mandalorian is right. He has no motivation to kill." She pointed at Bricédes. “But she does.”

For the second time in the past five minutes, Bricédes’ jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”

“If you say so.”

As Bricédes struggled to form a coherent sentence, Din glanced at the child. His tiny green hand tapped the table in the same pattern as before. _Tap-tap,_ _tap-tap-tap_ , _tap-tap_ , _tap_. What was going on? He’d never done that before.

“Yerena, you’ve known me for years,” said Bricédes. “Name a single reason I’d kill someone.”

“Easily,” replied Yerena. “In fact, I have two. Number one. You’re the only one who knew Anouk and Sephyr are immune to scarlet mould. Your ranch is on its last legs and probably has stores of the stuff.”

“That’s circumstantial.”

“Number two. You have every reason in the Galaxy to want my stopover destroyed.” She paused dramatically. “Or at least my association with it.”

Frowning, Din turned to Bricédes for clarification. She said nothing, her eyes briefly falling shut. This couldn’t have something to do with the property agreement Bricédes had mentioned, could it? He looked back at Yerena, whose orange skin was flushed in exhilaration. Evidently, the two women weren’t so friendly after all.

Yerena smiled tightly and scanned the room, her gaze resting on Din. “For those of you who are confused, here’s a little story. Bricédes Hawker may own half the land in town, but she’s no aristocrat.”

Off to the side, Din thought he heard Bricédes sullenly mutter something like _you’re so rude_.

“In fact, the only thing keeping the Mayor from seizing her property is the fact that a substantial source of income lies at the very centre of it. Any guesses as to what that is?”

“Your stopover!” Rivian threw in, as if he were on a game show. Ildomi sighed and shook his head.

“Very good, love,” Yerena said charitably. She went on. “My stopover ensures that Hawker Ranch and the land surrounding it remain in Bricédes’ name, even when she’s unable to maintain it herself. In return, all I ask for is a little help with upkeep — thirty percent of your ranch’s profits so that I can keep us all in business. Isn’t that right?”

Bricédes exhaled slowly, a look of defeat creeping over her face. “Yes.”

“And you’ve never liked that arrangement. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“So,” said Yerena, “I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume you might have wanted to get rid of me and take over the stopover, so you could keep all the profit for yourself. What better way than to ruin my reputation with murder?”

Gasps flurried through the parlour. Din forced himself to stay silent, hating what he was hearing. _Kriff_ , why did this story have to make so much sense?

“You know, that does seem likely,” said Rivian, adjusting his grip on Ildomi’s blaster. “You were ready to shoot me!”

“As a threat,” insisted Bricédes. “You said yourself I don’t have the nerve to pull the trigger.”

 _And she wouldn’t do that_ , Din wanted to say, before remembering he’d only landed on Karth a day ago. He had no idea what Bricédes would or wouldn’t do.

So, the new reigning theory was that Bricédes was the killer. Bricédes, who talked to her dogs about botany. Din supposed he’d seen stranger.

Still, that didn’t solve the issue of the timing. Bricédes had been beside him the whole evening. At some point after dinner, she’d gone upstairs to her room, which was when Yerena had brought out the _Borak_. Din had fetched his own meal, taken it upstairs, and eaten it while speaking to Bricédes. When could she have slipped away to poison the stew?

Perhaps the _Borak_ had been poisoned prior to being brought out? That would suggest someone had snuck into the kitchen earlier in the day. Of course, both Yerena and Pellen had been in and out of the area throughout the evening, but neither of them had any motive.

He was missing something, he had to be. Who could pass by unseen, exist among the lodgers unnoticed, creep into the kitchen and poison a stew entirely undetected?

The child tapped on the table again. _Tap-tap_ , _tap-tap-tap_ , _tap-tap_ , _tap_.

And then, like a gunshot wound to the chest, it hit him. The killer hadn’t crept into the kitchen at all.

They’d been there all along.

“Wait,” he said. All eyes turned to him. “Before you accuse Bricédes, I want to try something.”

Holstering his blaster, he strode over to the bar. AP-33 sat behind it, still and lifeless. He looked pointedly at the droid’s monitor.

“AP-33, go to the fireplace.”

Nothing happened.

Yerena frowned. “They only respond to me. For security reasons.”

“Right,” said Din, “Bricédes mentioned that. It’s a password?”

“Yes,” replied Yerena, confusion flicking in her eyes, “that’s the easiest way. I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

From the corner of his eye, Din saw Bricédes' face brighten with realization. Relief shot through his veins knowing they were on the same page. He could be correct.

“I’ll clarify,” he told Yerena. Placing a gloved finger on the droid’s monitor, he replicated the pattern the child had tapped out so many times. _Tap-tap_ , _tap-tap-tap_ , _tap-tap_ , _tap_. At once, the droid lit up with a gentle whir. Din repeated the order. “AP-33, go to the fireplace."

And AP-33 obeyed. As the droid buzzed over to the hearth, a series of sharp gasps rippled through the stopover. Bricédes remained silent.

“That,” said Din, “is how the stew was poisoned, and there’s only one person here who knew the droid’s password.”

All eyes flicked to Yerena, who turned the palest shade of orange Din had ever seen. Despite this, she stood her ground.

“I didn’t do it,” she stammered, “and I’m not the only one who knew the password. I told _him_.”

And she pointed at Pellen, stiff in his seat and wearing a stunned expression. For a moment, he stayed this way, eyes drifting over the room. Then, all nervousness slipped away and he raised his hands in resignation. Beside him, Morwyn’s breath quickened.

“So much for having one another’s back,” Pellen said, shooting Yerena an irritated look.

Bricédes shook her head incredulously. “Why the _kriff_ would you tell him? You’ve never even told me and I practically live here.”

Din broke his gaze from Pellen and focused on Yerena. Unfortunately, Bricédes was finding out the hard way that she’d been taking ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ far too literally, but she was still right: why _had_ Yerena revealed such a vital secret to Jethra Pellen?

At this, the Twi’lek had the decency to look a little ashamed. “He’s been here a few days and very kindly offered to help in the kitchen. And he’s rather good-looking, especially in that cape, so we — oh, don’t make me say it so unsubtly.”

Din blinked. He hadn’t thought Yerena Kwinn understood the concept of subtlety. Pondering her words, it dawned on him three seconds late what she was implying. He glanced at Pellen, who was very red in the face, and at Bricédes, who looked like she’d just watched a disturbing holovid.

Noticing her reaction, Yerena rolled her eyes. “Stop being so uptight. It’s why you’re greying at thirty-one.”

As Bricédes’ jaw dropped yet again, Din sighed. Commence awkward silence number four.

“Okay, hold up,” said Rivian, brandishing Ildomi’s blaster. “Is the droid, the landlady, or the scholar the killer? Who do I shoot?”

“All three, it seems,” mused Ildomi. He’d made no effort to find a replacement weapon.

Din stood his ground, mentally running through all the possibilities. Obviously, AP-33 couldn’t have acted without instructions from a master, and if Yerena was to be believed, that master was Jethra Pellen. And yet, he had no motive. Why should a young scholar from Southern Karth want to kill an Arkanisian outlaw?

Adjusting his grasp, he aimed his blaster at Pellen. “Are you going to give us a confession, or do we have to force it out of you?”

Pellen eyed the blaster warily. After a moment’s hesitation, he huffed. “It’s true, Madame Kwinn did disclose the password to me. And if it’s easier for everyone, I’ll confess.”

Din frowned. That was easier than expected.

“But,” continued Pellen, glancing at Rivian, “you won’t shoot me. I’ll return to Southern Karth and stand trial.”

“Oh, come on,” said Rivian. “We really gonna believe this guy? He’ll make a run for it the minute we turn our backs.” At that, he positioned himself next to Din and pointed Ildomi’s blaster at Pellen, who backed up against the wall. “I say we kill him now.”

“Wait!” cried a voice. It was Morwyn. She’d barricaded herself behind a chair, and her chest rose and fell with anxious breaths. “Please, don’t shoot Jethra. He didn’t do it. I did.”

Rivian’s jaw dropped. “ _What_? You?”

“I knew it!” said Yerena.

“No, you didn’t,” replied Rivian.

Ildomi laughed darkly. “Well, it looks like the loth-cat’s out of the bag. We should have threatened the scholar sooner.”

Disturbed by the commotion, the child whined softly. Din’s mind reeled. They actually had a confession. A real confession, from Morwyn, of all people. Part of him couldn’t believe that this quiet teenager had just admitted to being a killer, though he certainly knew better than to trust first impressions.

“You two know each other?” Bricédes asked, addressing Morwyn and Pellen.

“Yes,” replied Morwyn, surprisingly calm for someone who had just confessed to murder. “He used to work for my family as a tutor.”

Somewhere behind him, Din heard Bricédes gasp sharply. Her hand lightly touched his arm. Tearing his gaze away from Morwyn, he looked at her. Her eyes were acute and cautious, and her dogs flanked her, backs arched and teeth bared defensively.

“I’ve just thought of something,” she whispered. “This girl comes to us in the middle of a storm, the same day the Countess of Livia goes missing. She’s well-mannered, travelling alone, and if her family could afford Mr. Pellen as a tutor, she’s clearly wealthy. Do you understand?”

Din’s breath caught. _Of course_. How could he have been so stupid? Silently, he nodded.

“Then follow along.”

Straightening her shoulders, Bricédes turned to Morwyn. “Since you’ve already confessed, you won’t mind if I ask a few questions, will you?”

“No,” said Morwyn, shifting nervously.

“Good,” replied Bricédes. She paused. “You confessed to stop us from killing Mr. Pellen. Why?”

“I paid him to help me leave Livia. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

“Why did you want to leave Livia at all?”

“I already told you, I’m getting engaged,” said Morwyn, rather loftily. A moment passed, and she sighed. “But I don’t want to. I’ll hate it, I’ll be miserable.”

A forced engagement at such a young age? No wonder she wanted to leave. Bricédes, Din could tell, had a similar thought. Her brow was furrowed in hesitation, as if she were debating what to say next.

“An arranged marriage?” she finally said. “Those are rather rare on Karth, except among the nobility. Isn’t that right, Countess?”

“Yes,” said Morwyn. Suddenly, she gasped, and her eyes widening in horror as she realized what she’d said. Bricédes smiled thinly.

Yerena hurried forward, hopping up and down on the balls of her feet as if she were meeting a celebrity. In a way, she was. “ _You’re_ Countess Isabeth Moray?”

Morwyn nodded awkwardly.

“Countess Isabeth?” said Rivian. “The missin’ lady y’all have been goin’ on about?”

“The very same,” said Pellen irritably.

The only ledger yet to respond was Ildomi. The Mirialan stood, body taut and still like a serpent waiting to strike.

“So it is you,” he breathed, eyes hard. “I knew you looked familiar. Your father talked about you, you know, the last time I killed for him.”

“I’m flattered you remember,” said Morwyn — no, her name was Isabeth.

“If anyone is confused,” said Ildomi, addressing the group of stunned lodgers, “the Countess’ father is an old client of mine. I imagine he’d pay a handsome reward for her safe return.”

Din and Bricédes exchanged a look. _Kriff_ , Karth was small.

“That still doesn’t explain why you killed Blaine,” Din said to Isabeth, who stared at Ildomi fearfully.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to Din. “That’s the thing. It wasn’t supposed to be Blaine.” Before anyone could blink, she produced a blaster from beneath her cloak and rounded on Ildomi. “It was supposed to be him.”

And she pulled the trigger.

Before the bolt could hit him, Ildomi gracefully spun out of the way and revealed a set of throwing knives beneath his coat. Balancing them in his fingers, he sent them flying toward Isabeth. Two impaled her skirt, pinning her to the wall, while a third knocked the blaster out of her hand. Ildomi dashed up the staircase at lightning speed and disappeared down the hallway.

Jethra made a grab for Isabeth’s discarded blaster, but before he could do anything with it, Rivian shot him squarely in the chest. The force of the bolt slammed him into the wall and he went limp. Isabeth screamed and frantically tugged on the knives, trying to free herself.

Rivian cocked the blaster. “Now, I don’t care about fair trials. Ain’t no killers gettin’ out of here alive.”

He aimed at Isabeth. Swiftly, Din ejected his grappling line, pulled the blaster from Rivian’s hands and shot him. The hunter’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then he fell like a ragdoll. As Din made sure Rivian was dead, he was vaguely aware of Bricédes leaving his side and hurrying upstairs. He paid it no mind.

That just left Yerena. The Twi’lek had certainly been telling the truth about not knowing Pellen and Isabeth’s plan, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d withheld vital information and been willing to accuse any one of them of murder.

He turned to confront her, only to find her gone. The stopover door was wide open, gently swinging in the wind. Though snow flurried in and thinly coated the wooden floors, the faint glow of late afternoon sunlight broke through the clouds. The child cooed contentedly. The storm was ending.

Somewhere upstairs, a window smashed and something hit the ground outside. Darting to the door, Din saw the graceful figure of Ildomi running against the wind, Vala Blaine’s shrouded corpse thrown over his shoulder. Lowering his blaster, Din stepped back. The bounty was, after all, rightfully the Mirialan’s.

Sighing heavily, Din brought the pram closer. His heart felt unbearably heavy. How in the Galaxy had the child deciphered the password? It had to have something to do with his Jedi powers, which meant it was entirely beyond Din’s understanding. If he’d only realized earlier, he could have finished this. They could both be safe.

 _Click_. The sound of a blaster being cocked tore him from his thoughts. This time, it wasn’t Bricédes.

Isabeth emerged from the shadows like a ghost, fair hair falling over her face and eyes wide. Moving away from the wall, she planted herself in the middle of the parlour, the light from the crystal chandelier dancing over her face. Despite her inexperience with the blaster, she aimed it confidently at his chest. He proceeded with caution.

“It’s interesting, isn’t it?” she said. “I explicitly admitted to killing Vala Blaine, yet you all turned on each other instead of me."

Din stood his ground. “Isabeth —”

“— _Countess_.”

“Countess,” he sighed. “Look, I don’t care that you killed Blaine. I don’t want to hurt you. Just put the blaster down.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Isabeth spat. “It doesn’t matter who killed that criminal. Everyone here was willing to shoot if it meant leaving this place unscathed. And you’re no different — you’ll shoot too.”

Din scanned the room. Then, he slowly set his blaster down.

“I won’t.” He held up his empty hands. “See? I won’t shoot. We can just talk.”

At that, Isabeth’s face went slack and her grip on the blaster loosened slightly. “Fine.”

“Why did you do it?”

Isabeth exhaled, blowing a few strands of hair out of her face. “What Ildomi said is true. He was once in the employ of my father, and when I realized he’d arrived on Karth, I feared he’d recognize me and take me back home for a reward. I told Jethra to arrive at this stopover early and set my plan in motion. It was working, but I couldn’t anticipate that Vala Blaine would eat the _Borak_ first.”

Din nodded. That explained several things. 

“Once I realized what I’d done, I felt terrible,” she continued. “But it was too late to turn back.”

“Okay.” Din kept his voice calm. “I believe you. But that door is wide open. Why are you still here?”

“Do you think I’d let you and that impoverished rancher alert the Sheriff? No, Mandalorian. Only one of us is leaving here alive.”

Din shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be that way. You’re scared, I get that. We can figure this out properly.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You _are_. People always lie to me!”

Screaming in frustration, she pulled the trigger. Her aim was good. The bolt hit his left arm right under his pauldron. Shielding the child, he kicked up his blaster and fired near Isabeth’s shoulder, hoping to scare her into dropping her weapon. It didn’t work.

“Isabeth,” he said, “I don’t want to kill you. I want to help.”

“Liar!” she shrieked, shooting again. This time, the bolt hit his chestplate.

He launched his grappling line and succeeded in restraining her wrist. Before he could disarm her, a third bolt whizzed past him and went into the wall — an inch away from the child’s pram. That was it.

He aimed his blaster at her shoulder. His finger lowered onto the trigger... 

Suddenly, an ear-popping shot resounded from above, and the chandelier came crashing down.

Screaming, Isabeth tried to throw herself out of the way, but she wasn’t fast enough. The massive, crystal structure hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces, pinning the young Countess beneath it. Her body twitched, then went still.

Din dashed forward and dropped to his knees beside Isabeth. Looking up in the direction of the shot, he saw Bricédes on the staircase, wielding her hunting rifle and breathing heavily.

“I — I didn’t mean —” she stammered. “Is she dead?”

Din checked Isabeth’s pulse. It beat steadily. “Just unconscious.”

Lowering her rifle, Bricédes descended the stairs. “I’m sorry, I should have let you handle it.”

“No,” Din sighed. “I waited too long. I thought I could help her.”

“She shot you.”

“I know.”

“She would have killed you.”

“I know that, too.”

Bricédes raked a trembling hand through her curls. “Is the baby okay?”

Standing, Din turned to the child. Blinking sleepily, he titled his green head and chirped. The corner of Din’s mouth twitched.

“He’s fine,” he said. It was the truth.

━━━━━━━━ ✠ ━━━━━━━━

They called the Sheriff the moment the comm unit signal returned.

Isabeth admitted to everything, and Din wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. On one hand, she’d been perfectly ready to kill him and the child. On the other hand, she was scarcely more than a child herself. It hadn’t felt right to vanquish her with violence, but what other choice had there been? At least she wasn’t dead. He told himself this was the best possible outcome.

The Sheriff’s men found Yerena half-frozen in the woods. Against her better judgement, she hadn’t fetched a coat, and they took her into custody for further questioning.

Pellen and Rivian's deaths were deemed acts of self-defense. Ildomi, it seemed, had escaped, soaring away from the planet in a lightweight gunship. Din felt no regret at that.

When it was all over and the Sheriff and his men had left, Din turned to Bricédes. She'd donned her red cloak and hat once more, but left the goggles and scarf off.

“Did we really get away with that?” he asked. In his experience, it was rarely so simple.

Bricédes shrugged. “No place more lawless than northern Karth.”

“I think I could contest you on that.”

“With that armour? Perhaps,” she laughed, and opened the gate to the stopover. “I’ll drive you back to your ship.”

They went, driving the same route they’d taken on the way there. Now that the sky was finally stormless, Din saw what Karth truly looked like. The white forest was frozen, yet elegant. Hoarfrost and icicles hung from the dark, barren tree branches and snow flurried peacefully around them. With the early setting sun reflecting off the ice, the planet no longer looked like a wasteland. Din could almost see why Bricédes liked it so much.

“You know,” she said, speeding up the bike, “there’s still one thing I don’t understand.”

“What is it?”

“How could you possibly know what AP-33’s password was? I spend over half my time in that stopover and I swear to you, I never knew it.”

Din hesitated. He looked down at the child, riding alongside them in the pram. “Intuition.”

Bricédes scoffed good-naturedly. “Fine, don’t tell me. But to compensate, you have to visit again in the summer.”

“What happens in the summer?”

“Lake Mordica turns blue and all these hills are covered in wildflowers.”

“That sounds like quite a sight.”

She grinned at him over her shoulder. “Yes.”

They soon located the _Razor Crest_ , frozen over but functional, and she helped him dig it out of the snow. The child sat on a log, bundled in his cloak and watching them with big, curious eyes. When they were ready to leave, he approached Bricédes.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

She smiled. “I’d say it was no trouble, but that’d be a lie.”

“Likewise." For a moment, he remained silent, wondering if he should say something else. Eventually, he settled for a simple nod. “Well, goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” she said. “Look out for the kid.”

Lifting the child from the log, he boarded the _Razor Crest_. As he started the ship, he could see Bricédes through the windscreen, looking up at them and shielding her face from the force of the engines. The ship began to rise, and she disappeared from sight, lost within the wintry woods and shrouded by the snow.

Soaring out of Karth’s atmosphere and into hyperspace, Din turned to the child. “That trip turned out longer than anticipated. Huh, kid?”

The child chirped. Din took that as a yes.

“It was your powers, wasn’t it? That’s how you figured out the droid’s password. You sensed it, somehow.”

The child chirped again.

“I should have realized,” he sighed. He’d never felt so unsuited for a job, so unobservant, so out of his depth. “We’re going to find your people. A Jedi who can look after you properly, teach you more of that stuff.” At that, he fell silent. He thought of bitter winter melting away into summer. Of clear, blue lakes and wildflower-covered hills. “But maybe someday we can visit again, when we’re not snowed in with a murderer. Right, kid?”

For a third time, the child chirped brightly. His brown eyes crinkled and his ears perked up. Din smiled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

_Fin_

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
